


Beet-Papil goes to the big city

by Ka_she_who_lurks



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Q gets mentioned, Author Does Not Know How To Tag, Cannibalism, Decapitation, Fluff, Gen, Hard vore, I took a very unknown character and played around, It's still fluff, Look I think the Addams family shows some good healthy relationships ok?, Manipulation, Mother-Son Relationship, Nicer than it sounds, No quintesson shenanigans here from that guy, Optimus has a mom, Pregnancy, So even if the mom is basically a horror movie monster with a cute face, Vore, Worldbuilding, also a warning for, alt-mode based discrimination, and how it can overlap with other cultures, and possible insecticon culture, as a past lunch, as a warning, attempt at sexual coercion, by biting someones head off and eating it, casual disregard for life that isn't hive, culture clash, implied uninformed cannibalism, in the way of Cybertronian languages, insecticons are considered scary, is probably the more accurate name, it's mostly fluff I swear, pregnant lady robot, some nameless characters die, they kind of are I guess, this thing is entirely gen, though it's not a kink thing, warning for everything that comes with insecticons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 01:12:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13916190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ka_she_who_lurks/pseuds/Ka_she_who_lurks
Summary: A ladybug insecticon infiltrates Iacon, reproduces, and kills and eats a few people.Except it's mostly closer to fluff than horror.





	1. Get your kid to where he won't be eaten by mistake, and get yourself to where you won't get shot

**Author's Note:**

> So I ended up on the "your mom" page of tfwiki and found the lovely Beet-Papil. And immediately thought of Optimus, because of her colours, and the fact that Optimus has a mother (check "relatives" on tfwiki) according to a single image of a single commercial.
> 
> Insecticons vary from as intelligent as anyone else, and looking not so different from most other transformers, to straight up bestial.  
> And then Shockwave got a hold of them.  
> I went for intelligent and indistinguishable, with a culture of her own. One that would include treating animal-like allies as near-equals, and intelligent enemies as potential food.
> 
> I'm exploring a character that, canon-wise, does not have any characterization, and appears mostly just as concept art, and made her Optimus' mom. Primus help us all.

The blaster-outlets were easily enough disguised with a few custom plugs.  
The tricky part, really, was hiding the legs. 

Eventually, she settled on some clamps and sheeting that fit over them that made them look like a bumper.  
And then she was just one of the hundreds of people with acceptable looking alt-mode kibble seeking their fortune in Iacon, one of the biggest and wealthiest city-states on Cybertron.

 

"Name?" 

"Beet-Papil."

That got her a weird look.  
"That mean anything?"

She smiled a bright little smile that made her eyes curve harmlessly above her face-mask. 

"It's a Destron abbreviation of a combination of the word papilio, a Primal Vernacular word referring to often colourful flaps that may double as sensory equipment, and the word beetle, from the Polyhexian bitela, referring to..."

"Yeah, yea, mini-bots, specifically mini-bots with a small roundish car alt-mode like you. You could've just said "Brightly coloured car-type mini-bot." you know. Anyway, city of origin?" 

"Kaon." Under Kaon, to be precise.

"Not with all those gladiators and layabouts at the bowel level?"

"I lived a level or two away from all that." 

Her smile was a work of art. Beet-Papil considered gladiators to be considerate and pretty nice to taste. Bleeding actual energon down to where she and hers could get at it as they did, when they traveled away from the breeding caverns closer to the core.

"Good on you. Nice looking femme like you, no thinking about what'd happen to you in those slums."

She nodded with a little sigh. "I did tend to avoid going such places." 

After all, no use in stressing out perfectly decent and hardworking bots by letting them think they might get eaten. And she'd have gotten shot at the higher levels. Fortunately, Iaconians were much less experienced in recognizing insecticons.

"Reason of going to Iacon?"

"Looking for work and housing. And see if I can find a specific yellow truck."

The clerk raised an eyebrow ridge at her.

Beatifically, the smile was back.  
"I had a bit of a romance with someone passing through, and, well..." she raised her hand to lay it on her torso. "Children should have a chance to know their sire, no?"

The clerk's face lit up with comprehension. "Ah. Well. Good luck with that then, miss." he said in the awkward way of those who had heard of that type of reproduction, but, as most Cybertronians, had little experience with it.  
He filled in the last few lines, and with a stamp, the datapad granting her entry the legal way was approved.

She thanked him politely and was on her way.

Beet-Papil, like most raised in Destron culture, was more polite than honest.  
Beet-Papil, like most insecticons, was perfectly willing to stay or go wherever there was food.  
Beet-Papil, like most expecting mothers that had decided to keep the little life growing inside them, wanted to give the little person-to-be a good chance in life.

She was clever and resourceful, and the moment she noticed she was carrying but the lack of cyber-pheromones that indicated a healthy insecticon, knew she was going to have a truck, and started to plan accordingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Destron is the Cybertronian version of Japanese.
> 
> I thought I was going to go with a language related to Malignus or Old Malignus - as French, as a romance language, is related to Portuguese - to make "papillion" make sense, but it turns out that the Latin word for butterfly is similar.
> 
> Polyhex as a choice for the English/Germanic word origin is a combination of Iacon being close, and because I looked up "viking" to find something plausible, what with the whole Nordic languages and English sharing the same origin, and ended up with Trannis, and through him, Polyhex.
> 
> Kaon or Tarn, home of Shockwave who sometimes has a British accent, Kalis, where Hoist seems to come from who has a British accent, and Iacon, because it's Iacon, were the main contenders for the origin of "Cybertronian equivalent of English or related Germanic language.
> 
> Is there a Cybertronian equalivent of "we invaded all but 22 of all the countries in the world and disdained and destroyed any culture that wasn't ours until we were the most widespread, and that and the entertaiment industry is why you all speak English now"?  
> Because Iacon sounds like a good choice, but so does Kaon. And what city-state does the functionist philosophy come from?
> 
> Kaon is where Shockwave tends to do his insecticon experiments, after he gets some around there from under the planet's surface, so, that's where B-P comes from.
> 
> OP's sire is a yellow truck because the alternate universe female version of Optimus is yellow.


	2. Rare opportunities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming home from work, dealing with an unpleasant person, but still having a good evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... this is the chapter most of the warnings apply to, just so you know.

Beet-Papil had a long day at work from being a secretary at a minor company - a much lower position than being the secretary of high councilor Avalon, but the poor mech had tragically disappeared, and a position that didn't investigate her too thoroughly was more prudent for a while after that.

Not that she regretted the shift in jobs beyond the pay loss, really.  
After all, it was the duty of a proper insecticon to defend the hive, and thus Cybertron, from outside threats, and the Quintesson associate had been rather damning evidence.

She cleaned up the apartment a bit and thought about preparing a meal for her baby boy, who would be home soon.  
After all, while her work mostly used her processor and the way she could play off preconceived notions some mechs had of quiet, polite femmes like her, he worked at the docks - often a physically exhausting task.  
Also, he might have brought his friends along.

And then there was a knock at the door.  
Not a polite knock, like her boy or his friends might use, or a friendly face of the local femme association.  
She went to the door and put on her politest face before pressing the pad that let the door slide open.   
It was the landlord, a blocky mech about twice as tall as she was, which made him about a head shorter than her baby boy.

"Hello, miss Beetle." he said, looming over her. 

She did not like his smirk.   
It was the sort of indecent look some people who played with their food had. Nevertheless, she smiled back.  
"Ah, hello, I did not expect you so soon, sir. Would you like to come in?" she said cheerfully.

He blinked in surprise, and then recovered.  
"Of course." he said, his smirk widening, as he shouldered past her.

She followed him into her own home, the door sliding shut behind her with a soft little click.  
She paused.  
He was sitting at her table, chair askew, not even having waited for her to be in the room.

That noxious mech with his indecent lack of manners just went and...  
Ugh.  
It would not do to be impolite.

She sat down opposite him, and pointedly did not offer him a drink.  
"Is there something I could help you with, sir?" she said, blinking slowly.

He leaned over towards her.  
"There very well could be, miss Beetle. You see, I had noticed that recently, you've been having trouble with paying the rent."  
The rent that he had hiked up and up as soon as he noticed she had switched jobs. 

She nodded tragically and sighed.   
"So it is. I am afraid that between the rising rent and supporting my darling son's academic ambitions, I simply cannot afford to pay for everything anymore with my current job."

He reached out a hand. "That must be so stressful for you. A beautiful femme having to do all that by herself..."  
His eyes were not aimed at her face.

Oh well.   
"Could you not reverse the higher rental price sir? I could manage if the rent was the same as before, or even a few percent higher. But to quadruple the price... it's impossible for me to pay!" she simpered, eyes huge and liquid.

He sighed, faux-regretfully. "Really, miss Beetle. I can't do that. I have business of my own to worry about. You and your son will be turned out on the street! Unless..."  
He did a poor job of concealing this smirk.  
Really. The nerve of that mech. Still, she'd take the bait.

"Unless what, sir?"  
She blinked owlishly, her eyes worried-wide, her arms held before her into a praying-pleading sort of gesture, that anyone familiar with insecticon culture would take pause upon seeing.  
Praying mantis or pleading maiden, cultural differences were such fun to mess with.

"Well..." he leered as he looked her up and down. He stood up and shoved the table aside.   
"You could pay me in a more... physical fashion. Simply make it worth my while every now and again, and I'll drop the price back to what it was before. Just for you, you understand."

She rose gently from her chair, her eyes still wide.  
"You mean to say sir..." she said, hand rising slowly to her faceplate.

And then her hand reached out to his helmet, and she marveled at how slow she could move, how obvious she could telegraph her intentions, and not have him flee.  
Indeed, instead he even leaned towards her!

"Yes..." he said slowly and with a wide grin that only did the slightest lip service at trying to appear friendly.

She didn't even have to grab him, she simply, slowly - so slowly! - guided his face to her own.  
They were barely a hand width apart when her grip tightened suddenly, her faceplate snapped open, and she lunged forward.

There was a wet crunch, the sparking of circuitry.  
Her mandibles moved over the crushed helmet, the still recognizable expression of horrified shock disappeared into her maw.

Ah, delicious! The crunch of metal, the seep of energon! She hadn't indulged herself like this in years!  
She allowed herself a moment to savour the taste. She licked her mandibles and sighed.

Then she looked at the rest of the body.  
Too much to work away in one go without kickstarting a reproductive splitting. And her son would be home soon.  
But eating it would be such a convenient way to get rid of the evidence, and due to Iacon's lack of wildlife, she hadn't had a good meal that was more than just filtered energon in years, not since the Quintesson and councilor Avalon!

She watched the slow drip of energon.  
Hmm.

 

Beet-Papil looked around, satisfied.  
The metal parts were in several storage boxes in her room for the odd late-night snack, she'd drained the energon, strained it through a filter or two, and put it in cubes, and ate both the filters and the spillage. She'd even freshened herself up a little, and all befor... ah. 

There was a knock at the door.  
A more polite one this time. 

Beet-Papil cheerfully went to answer it.  
There were two mechs and a femme there, one as red-and-blue as she herself, if paler, one mostly yellow, and the femme was the pink of spilled life-fluids, a sure sign of a properly confident young lady, by Beet-Papil's esteem.

"Hello there, Orion, welcome home." she said warmly to her son. "Ariel, Dion, I am pleased to see you both." she nodded to her son's friends.

"Uh, hi mom, I was wondering if my friends could have dinner here tonight?"

Beet-Papil smiled widely and sincerely, mandibles shifting happily behind her facemask.  
"Of course! You're in luck, I just got us a new batch of fresh energon!"

Filtered properly too. Her son and his friends had, after all, the sensitive digestive system of a vehicle, rather than a normal one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> B-P adapts and is overlooked by fitting into assumptions and stereotypes. As long as it suits her to do so.


	3. Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the beginning of the war.

There was the sound of gunfire.   
They were being led through a set of tunnels to one of the hidden ships for evacuating the civilian populace.   
Beet-Papil had the urge to go deeper, burrow down close and safe to Cybertron's core.

But that was wasteland now, taken over by Shockwaves abominations.   
They bred, and more and more there were throwbacks to the lower and more beastly of her people, so that was hopeful, but for now, there was as little safety below as there was above.   
Finding a high spot to fly away was right out too.

And now she was going to be trapped in a metal shell with panicked, stressed out people who could not find out what she was hiding under her fake bumpers and fake wheels, or they'd treat her as if she were one of those abominations.  
She was an insecticon, and one that was effectively a miniature tank with a full range of natural weaponry, and all of those factors would make her a target.

"Hold the line, protect the civilians!"

Was that?  
She let herself fall back in the crowd until the part of the autobot defenders she'd heard the voice from was close. 

He was taller. Broader. Armed as well. His sensory stubs were proper antennae. His colouration had deepened to something closer to herself, though his blue was more a cobalt compared to her midnight.   
But that was her baby boy alright.

He was standing in front of the autobots, between them and the decepticons that were breaking into the tunnels.  
And as she looked at him, he got shot.

"Prime's down, we need cover fire! Medic!"

"Orion!" she hadn't even noticed the sound had ripped from her throat until she was pushing through the line of autobots to run to her boy.

"Ma'am, please stay back, this is a combat zone...!"

"My son told you to hold the line, so you hold that damned line, brat!" she snarled as she crouched down next to Orion.

"Baby, baby, Orion, are you alright?" she said as her hands flew over his frame. 

"Mom? Mother what are you doing here! You need to get back to the evacuation!"

"Not until I know you're safe, dear."

Nothing vital was hit, thank goodness, but he was hit in a leg joint, and energon was slowly seeping from a charred gash in his shoulder.  
He needed rest, some minimal medical help, and to get out of the line of fire and he'd be absolutely fine.

The rest of the people and the mechs under his command were still here.  
Orion would refuse to do what was right for him until everyone else was safe.  
Her stupid, sweet, selfless boy.

The civilians and autobots needed to either not be here, or... She looked up, at the decepticons hiding from autobot fire behind the broken chunks of rock from the walls of the tunnel, shooting at them.   
Shooting at her child.  
That needed to stop.

"Sweetheart, mom is going to get rid of your problem now, alright? Just hold on."

"Mom, what are you going to...?" but she'd already pulled out the plugs on her blaster-outlets and shook the metal off that her smaller legs carried.

She flew low over the ground, blasters firing with every upswing of her wings, hitting a few decepticons, making the rest hide or run. 

Well. She knew what to do when prey ran, didn't she?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A ladybug hunting looks like a tank with limbs doing parkour and sneak-attacks in slow motion, with the main advantage being that a ladybug is just as fast as their prey, and much stronger. After that, it's a matter of casual grab and *cronch*.
> 
> The author wanted some sweet mother-son bonding. It's still kind of sweet, in an Addams' family kind of way. Or a horror movie monster way, certainly from the perspective of those decepticons.

**Author's Note:**

> ... oh man, I just thought of something: a Miraculous Ladybug crossover.  
>  But when you think of a black cat in Transformers it's Ravage. But Soundwave is insufficiently top-dog to be Hawkmoth. Maybe as TFP Soundwave trying to bring Megatron back to life. Or Shockwave as Beet-Papil's father and the main villain. For science, of course. It is only logical.
> 
> B-P. BP. Beepy. Beet-Papil. Bee-Pa. 
> 
> So that's the saga. I saw, I randomly associated, I got ideas, I fell in love, I expressed that love by fanfic.
> 
> She never did bother looking for that yellow truck. After all, what’s a drone to a queen?


End file.
